


Quarantine Veil Theory

by Viscariafields



Series: Thedosian Mechanics [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Academia, COVID-19, Coronavirus, Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Quarantine, and they were quarantined!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viscariafields/pseuds/Viscariafields
Summary: Another AU of the AU-- How does the modern Thedas gang deal with social-distancing in a time of pandemic? Short vignettes of life under quarantine.This is my escapist way of dealing with current events. It's meant to be light-hearted and silly.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Hawke, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Leliana/Vivienne (Dragon Age)
Series: Thedosian Mechanics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1415137
Comments: 275
Kudos: 115





	1. Day 1

“We’re here!” Bethany called from the front door of Hawke’s basement apartment. “We brought food!”

“And all the toilet paper from the bar,” Varric added. “It’s closed indefinitely so I figured… might as well strip it for parts.”

Fenris looked the two guests up and down before turning to Hawke. “Aren’t we supposed to be social distancing?” he hissed, slowly backing away as if they might explode.

“We are.”

“Then why did you invite them over for supper?”

“Yeah, we both can hear you, elf,” Varric said over his shoulder before heading back outside. Bethany passed her grocery bags to Hawke, pulling out her phone and running after Varric. Fenris followed Hawke into the kitchen. 

“You shouldn’t be touching any of that. Shouldn’t we disinfect it or something?”

“They’re going to stay with us,” Hawke replied, reorganizing their fridge for the new additions. “Varric brought his air mattress and Bethany’s taking the couch.”

“For… how long?”

“Maker’s breath, Fenris, have you not read the group chat at all today?” she laughed, “For however long it takes.” 

Bethany came back into the kitchen with more groceries, her eyes still glued to her phone. “They kicked us out of the dorms this morning,” she said, heading back outside.

“And Varric? Did he kick himself out of his own home?”

“No,” said Hawke, trying to force the fridge door closed. Fenris sighed and waved her out of the way. At least solving this problem would give him something to focus on that wasn’t… massive global disaster.

“But he did bring a lot of booze,” Hawke offered.

“He could have left it outside the door for us.”

“He lives alone, Fen. What if he got sick? They say we’re all getting sick, so we might as well do it together and take care of each other when it happens. If he got sick alone, you know I’d go take care of him anyway, and then you’d have to take care of me, and then I’d take care you back. This way we either all stay healthy together or we cut down on travel time.”

He couldn’t deny there was a certain logic to it, even if the idea of sharing one bathroom between the four of them indefinitely was… well. Nobody ever said a pandemic would be easy. And at least, by the clinking of all the boxes Varric was unloading in their living room, he had brought enough alcohol for three months. Still, there was something else Hawke wasn’t telling him.

“There’s also…” Hawke trailed off. Ah. The real reason. Hawke bit back a grin. 

“Yes?”

“Well you can’t play cards with three people. It doesn’t work. All the good games require four.”

Fenris dropped his face into his hands before remembering he wasn’t supposed to do that anymore. Defeated, he laughed as he washed his hands for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “I love you, Hawke.”

“Yeah, well.” She grinned. “Let’s see if you feel the same way at the end of this.”


	2. Day 2

Hawke glared at Bethany. The girl had been on her phone all day. She’d even moved her charger so that she could just sit with it plugged in and never have to set it down. Her neck was going to stick like that if she didn’t move her head once an hour.

There was no way it was healthy to be _that_ informed right now.

Hawke looked at the news for five minutes and convinced herself she couldn’t breathe. Five minutes more away from her phone and she was miraculously healed. Beth was poisoning her mind.

There was nothing for it. Hawke had to save her little sister.

She plucked the phone out of her hand.

“Hey—give it back!”

“This much information can _not_ be good for you,” she chided, turning to see what horrors her little sister was learning about now. But it wasn’t news. It was… texting. With a boy. “Who is Alistair?”

“No one! Lea, _stop_.” Bethany reached for her phone, but Hawke held her at bay while scrolling.

“No one?” He’d sent her selfies, all fully clothed, thank goodness. And he definitely wasn’t no one. Hawke recognized him. “Is that… are you texting Alistair Theirin, the idiot prince?”

Bethany practically climbed on top of her sister to snatch her phone back, her cheeks turning a vicious red. “He’s not an idiot. That’s all just gossip. Right now he’s opening the closed wings of the palace and moving as many homeless families in as he can. He says if he has to issue a shelter in place order, everyone better have shelter. But he’s limited by bathrooms because to stop the spread of germs between families, they can’t share.”

“How many bathrooms does the palace have?”

“Seventy-eight.”

Hawke thought about that. Rare enough for a politician to do something actually altruistic and kind, even in a disaster. Even rarer for some noble idiot to take charge and do something that might _help_ people. All the elite of Orlais had done was sing a trite song together. Poorly. Hawke supposed it united the people in hating them, which was, at least, something else to think about for a minute or two. Still, maybe Alistair wasn’t as empty-headed as the press made him out to be.

Bethany was typing again.

“How did you even _start_ talking to him?”

“I commented on one of his photos a couple weeks ago. You know, after we all started… remembering things. And he wrote back.”

“The King of Ferelden slid into your DMs?”

Bethany’s face was turning pink again. “I… well… yeah.”

Hawke blew the air out of her mouth. “Well done, Beth.”


	3. Day 3

Bull opened his cabinet and stared at it blankly. There were supposed to be spices in it. He’d lived in this apartment for four years, and this was the cabinet with the spices.

There were no spices. Instead it was full of plates. Bull took a deep breath. Fine. He opened the cabinet where the plates had lived for four years. He was greeted by nothing but mugs, meticulously placed three inches apart as if they, like everyone else, were practicing social-distancing.

He shut the cabinet. It wasn’t that he hated having a perfectly spotless kitchen. He didn’t even mind having it reorganized. He would prefer it if Dorian could pick a layout and stick with it, but he could deal. Mostly, he just wanted to make some fucking chili.

“Kadan!” he called.

Dorian showed up too quickly, which meant he had not been napping, like he said he was, but was probably on his phone again, checking news sites. Bull was ready to smash that thing, but he knew Dorian needed it for messages from his boss and in the off chance he heard from his parents. Assholes still hadn’t called, even in a fucking plague.

“Where are my spices?” he asked.

Dorian opened the drawer in front of him, a drawer that had previously been filled with napkins and chop sticks and packets of soy sauce and whatever else takeout places threw in their bags. It was now filled with neatly arranged bottles of spices. “They all fit so perfectly in here, and this drawer was just wasting space before.”

Bull closed his eyes.

“Dorian, I love you. You know I love you, right? And that I love having you here?”

“I am sensing there is something you do not love, amatus.”

“I am seven feet tall. I have _horns_. How am I supposed to lean over and read those labels? I’m going to impale a cabinet.”

Dorian stared at the spice drawer thoughtfully. “I suppose you have a point. Two of them, to be exact. Maybe if I move all of your pots and pans—”

Bull grabbed him by the waist and tugged him until he was leaning back against his chest. After a moment, Dorian leaned back and Bull wrapped his arms around him. Carefully, so as not to hit his horns on any cabinets, Bull bent forward and pressed his lips to Dorian’s. Dorian closed his eyes and relaxed, if only for a moment. It was enough.

“Grab me the garlic powder and the cayenne pepper, would you?” he asked without letting go of him.

Dorian passed them over his shoulder, and Bull leaned down once more to kiss him on the nose. “Now get out of my kitchen. Chili will be ready in twenty. Go… figure out what to do with my shoes or something.”

“Yes, ser.” Dorian said, and Bull swatted him with the dish towel as he left. A rearranged kitchen was a small price to pay to have him here during a global shitstorm. And it’s not like he ever really cared for the cabinets anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to a friend who visited me for a week and rearranged my effing kitchen.


	4. Day 4

This time, when the thermometer was aimed for his mouth, Solas was ready. Lara was quiet, quick, and had waited until he was reading, but enough was enough. He grabbed her wrist before she got it under his tongue and turned to face her.

“Vhenan, must you?”

She was unrepentant. “You coughed earlier. And a fever is the first sign.”

“Clearing of the throat is not the same as a dry cough.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Solas wasn’t even sure he could be killed of an illness. It had never happened before. He had, from time to time, been laid low by various ailments that raged through the mortal world, but never had it been a serious cause for concern. In this pandemic, Lara was more likely than he to fall victim to it, and he had already taken the necessary measures to assure that she did not. She was here and they were isolated.

“If it would alleviate your worries, I can take my temperature at regular intervals. I can even record it for you.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s a good idea. We could make a spreadsheet. Time of day along with temperature, of course you’ll need to take it three times so we can have an average because these grocery-store variety thermometers are not exactly finely tuned, and I can also keep a record of your coughs and see if they change in frequency over time…”

Solas dropped his face into his hands. This was not at all what he had in mind. Lara shoved the thermometer back into his mouth—and who did he have to blame but himself for that—and ran to get her laptop. She hummed to herself as she started filling in the spread sheet, and Solas read off the number to her and shoved the thermometer back into his mouth for reading two of three. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For what it's worth, I'd be willing to take requests on who you'd like to see responding to the situation. I have more Solas/Lara already written, and I always have more ideas for Hawke, but just let me know ^.^


	5. Day 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns its T rating for both language and spiciness.

Solas looked across the table. In an effort to actually _work_ while working from home, Lara had suggested they set up quiet hours across from each other. It was helpful to delineate hours for working and to feel the judgement of her stare if he veered toward reading non-work-related items. But in the past few minutes, Lara’s typing had grown in volume and enthusiasm. She had a vicious scowl on her face.

Clearly, she was focused on something other than her research. “Has physics offended you, vhenan?”

“Literally every day. But I’m currently talking to Dorian.”

“About?”

“Asignon has said that because our labs are small, he anticipates all of us will continue working as if normal. That we should be able to space ourselves out. That all research, even theoretical physics, is essential to the mission of the university.”

Solas closed his eyes. Vivienne, at least, had been decisive in shutting down the art department. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d had the locks changed on the studios to discourage work from students or otherwise. But Asignon was not the only academic to consider his work so important as to be impervious to disease. Pompous, short-sighted, cruel…

He opened a new email and started typing out a letter to the dean of the graduate studies. Meanwhile, Lara was not done with her anger. She stood up to pace around the room while calling Asignon every name she could think of.

“If we shut down all the labs tomorrow, _today_ , nobody but us would even notice. Almost nothing in the world would change at all. Meanwhile, everyone working in the shops is scared for their lives while customers act like crazed animals, and if they closed the grocery, I would starve to death in three days! How could anyone think what I do is important enough to…? Not to mention health care workers, not to mention my _mother…_ ”

Her breath caught, and her wild and angry eyes landed on him, almost done typing his email. _Recklessly irresponsible_ , he typed out, _Needless endangering of lives…_

“Solas, are you even listening to me?”

“Every word, vhenan.”

“No, you’re not!” she retorted, though her tone was at least softer now. “You’re writing.” She walked around the table to look at his screen, and her irritation dissipated rapidly. “You’re… you’re writing an email to Leliana?”

“Yes.”

“To tell her to shut down all research immediately?”

“Yes.”

“And to keep paying the graduate students?”

“Yes.”

“And to tell any faculty member to who disregards that order to fuck right off?”

“Yes.”

He felt a tug at his shoulder, and Lara had her lips pressed to his in an instant. She gripped his sweater, pulling him up from his chair without breaking the kiss. Soon her tongue was in his mouth, and she was moving them away from the table. 

He turned his head back toward his unsent email. This only gave her access to his ear, and his eyes fluttered shut as her mouth closed over his earlobe. “I have to—”

“You have to come with me right now,” she said between nibbles, pulling him toward their bedroom. _Fenhedis_. He extended a long arm, just reaching his computer and hitting _send_ before Lara dragged him away. The work day was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solas and Lara were requested; Solas and Lara are here. :D
> 
> Different people respond differently to stress. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	6. Day 6

Josephine carefully ran her fingers over her eyebrows to relax her face. “No, Papá, you are not listening to me. You must stay at home.”

She tapped her nails on her perfectly clean desk.

“No. Going to your weekly card game does not count as staying at home. Papá. Papá. No. Papá. Listen.”

She took a calm and soothing sip of herbal tea and worked on unclenching her jaw.

“No, Papá, this is not some Orlesian plot. It is not just a cold. It is not a mage conspiracy. Papá. Papá! I do not want to talk to Mamá, I want you to listen—”

She took a deep breath and waited while the phone was passed over.

“Mamá, please tell him—what do you mean—of course you can’t keep going to the salon!”

Josephine counted to ten under her breath. “You have _asthma_. Nobody will care what your roots will look like in a month. You think your friends don’t have gray hair?”

Josephine gave up on calm. Calm was _wasted_ on some people. Her voice sharpened dramatically. “Mamá, put Yvette on the phone right now.” She tapped her foot while she waited. “Hermanita, I want you to toss them in their room and lock the door. Understood? Take their car keys away, I don’t care. Confiscate their wallets, their phones if you have to. They are not to leave that house.”

She blew out a breath while her sister talked. Thank the Maker someone in her family wasn’t a complete idiot.

“Thank you. Stay safe. I love you.”

Josephine hung up the phone and put her head in her hands. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the request for Josephine, and, well, I can't be the only person who had one of these conversations, right?


	7. Day 7

“Did you know we now live in a time when people can live blog their own deaths from a global pandemic? Truly, an incredible world.”

A hand on her wrist. A gentle chiding. “Hawke, put your phone down.”

Fenris was right. She set down the phone, and with nothing to stare at, her eyes fell on the water-stained ceiling of their bedroom.

“Do you think if we turned the music loud enough that Bethany and Varric would still be able to hear—”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Then I have an idea.” Hawke hopped out of bed and burst into the living room.

“Do you remember the game hide-and-go-seek-in-the-dark?”

Bethany whipped her head away from her phone for the first time in days. “But mother banned it.”

“Yes, but she’s not here, is she?”

To Hawke’s delight, Bethany’s hand and Bethany’s phone ceased contact for the first time in a week. She was in. She turned her victorious grin to Varric.

“Hawke, I’m like 40 years old, I don’t think hide-and-seek—”

“Shut up, Varric. You’ll love it. Here are the rules. We turn off every single light. All of them, even the little blinking ones. Even Fenris shouldn’t be able to see a _thing_.”

It was much harder to achieve perfect darkness than when she was a child. Seemingly everything in their apartment came with a small light. They shut off the internet, the TV, their game system, unplugged all the kitchen appliances, closed the curtains to hide the little light coming down off the street, until finally they could see nothing at all. Bethany’s phone buzzed, and Hawke lunged for it, flipping it over and leaving on the counter.

“Now what?” Varric asked, still annoyed.

“Now you hide, and I try to find you.”

She counted to twenty loudly. Their living room was small enough there wasn’t exactly anywhere to go, but that wasn’t the point of hide-and-go-seek-in-the-dark. She heard a thump and a giggle from Bethany. More thumps and cursing from Varric. Fenris was dead silent, wherever he was.

“Ready or not—” she said to her now completely unfamiliar room. It only took thirty seconds to completely lose her bearings. She took a step forward, hands thrown wide in front of her. So far, so good. On her next step, she ran full on into the back of the sofa, tumbling over it and landing on Varric with a pronounced “oof.”

“Found you,” she said between breaths of laughter. He shoved her to the side, cursing between his own guffaws. Hawke was certain she had heard Bethany laugh when she fell, and once she found her feet, and after her shin had found the coffee table, the wild waving of her hands found her sister.

“Alright, Fenris, you win.”

“My turn,” he said, from the spot he had not left since before the game started. He counted to twenty while they scrambled, breathless with laughter, to find a spot and calm themselves.

“You can’t stand here, _I’m_ standing here,” Bethany hissed.

“That was my foot, Varric,” Hawke complained.

“Shut up, Hawke, I’m loving this.”

“Ready or not,” Fenris called. There was silence for a moment, then the entire room lit up in the eerie glow of Fenris’s lyrium.

He looked intolerably smug as he said, “Found you.”

There was a collective groan, and Bethany threw a pillow from the sofa at him.

“Okay,” Hawke sighed, “New rules.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request was for partners to play/be silly. Hopefully, even though it wasn't just a romantic couple, this fits the bill! 
> 
> Also, hide-and-go-seek-in-the-dark was the best game my siblings ever came up with, it was instantly banned for life at every house we played in, it's a great way to destroy everything you own and bruise the hell out of all body parts, highly recommended.


	8. Day 8

Lara hung up the phone and turned to Solas.

“She’s not coming. She says she’s fine, she has enough food for a year, and she’s not lonely. The first thing she did when she learned about the virus was adopt a kitten, so she’s set.”

Solas didn’t change expressions, but Lara knew he must be relieved her sister wasn’t coming to stay with them for the rest of quarantine.

“Any other news?”

“I got a weird message from Hawke, but I think it means they are all fine.”

“What about your parents?”

Lara wrung her hands together. “They’re fine for now. But my mother… she’s a nurse. They put up temporary housing in the city so the medical staff wouldn’t bring it back to their families. I just…”

Solas took her hand and prevented her from breaking her own fingers in her tight, anxious grasp. Lara focused on trying to untense her jaw while taking what was seemingly her first breath in a month. Then she was in his arms as he pressed her to his chest. And it was rude, it was so rude of this stupid virus that she was pressed up against what might be the best chest in the world in the softest sweater, with the best arms holding her tightly, and she still just couldn’t quite enjoy it.

“Can’t you just fix it?” she asked pathetically. “Target every little virus and zap it out of existence?”

“I don’t think anyone has that power,” he said gently, “Viruses are too small, too plentiful. There would be too much danger for killing the host.”

Lara knew this. But she couldn’t stop thinking about her mother working 12-hour shifts in the hospital, or her father sitting alone in their house. Would he call for help if he needed it? Or would he stubbornly think he could just… She never should have come to Orlais. She should have studied virology instead of physics, or better yet, done what Deshanna always wanted and just stayed home. She should have—

The elevator dinged, disrupting her chain of thought, and Lara shifted within Solas’s arms to see the doors open.

“We’re here!”

Solas’s arms fell to his side, and the two of them stood in baffled silence while Hawke, Fenris, Bethany, and Varric poured into the flat with bags and suitcases in tow.

Varric was the first to notice their stunned expressions. “Didn’t you get our messages? Hawke said you talked to her…”

“I was on the phone with my sister,” Lara said stupidly.

“Our only toilet broke,” Bethany said, “And our landlord—”

“Is a prick,” Hawke cut in. “But anyway, I wouldn’t want to force a plumber to be out during this time. And I wouldn’t trust one who _wanted_ to be out during this time, and my own efforts at plumbing…”

“Will make more work for whoever eventually shows up in the future,” Fenris finished for her. “We may have voided our lease.”

Solas took a breath, and for a moment Lara thought he might tell them to leave. But when she looked at him, he was gazing at her, almost smiling. “The guest room is open,” he said with a wave toward the door, still looking at Lara, “And the studio can be converted for sleeping space as well.”

After a day of quiet fretting, tense phone calls, and too much silence, the flat was now full of activity as people unpacked and poured drinks and started cooking. Hawke had already taken up a chair, her feet hanging over arm, and was calling Fenris to look at her phone. “You have to see this puppy.”

“Is he… covered in jam?” he asked, while they both cooed. Lara wandered over to see, too.

“I hope you brought a deck of cards,” Solas called to Varric in the kitchen. Lara caught his eye, and he gave her a fond smile. “And money to lose.”

“I brought cards, board games, and Hawke brought her video games, so once we lose all our money to you at cards, we can win it back teaching you how to race go-karts.”

Lara laughed, and for the first time this week she had something to look forward to—Solas learning a video game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else having a bad day with all of this?


	9. Day 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has marijuana (elfroot?) mentions. Well, more than mentions. Hawke decides Lara could use an edible.

“If you’re adding things to the shopping list, we need more lotion.”

Hawke blinked at Lara. That could not be true. With all the handwashing everyone was doing, they had brought extra. “Are you certain?”

Lara twisted her hands together while staring at the floor. “Since you’ve gotten here, every time I feel so nervous I can’t breathe I take a shower or a bath,” she admitted, “So I’ve been taking about ten a day and my skin feels like an archdemon’s backside.”

Hawke had petted an archdemon once. It was not an experience she wanted to repeat. “I will add lotion to the list,” she promised, scribbling on her paper. “Out of curiosity, what were you doing for the stress _before_ we got here?”

“Oh. Um, well…” Lara's cheeks gained an adorable flush as she floundered to come up with a lie. It was too late. Hawke had a pretty good idea how Lara had been spending her time. 

“Is this why Solas has been sleeping essentially since we’ve arrived?” Hawke covered her grin with her hand. “You wore the poor man out.”

“He’ll rally,” Lara said, before covering her own mouth in embarrassment. Hawke laughed, which only made Lara look more upset, and an impending bath was seeming likely. 

“If you want to try a _different_ strategy," Hawke suggested, "One that won’t destroy your skin or result in Solas keeling over from exhaustion—” and Lara squeaked at this in indignation, to Hawke’s delight—“could I offer you some, ah, chocolate? You know, special, elf-root enhanced chocolate?”

“I don’t know. Do you really think it would help?”

“Probably. Just take a look at Fenris.”

Lara looked at where Fenris was lounging, staring at nothing in particular. Hawke wasn’t sure she’d heard him utter a single thing all day. He didn’t seem particularly distressed, though. He’d spent about fifteen minutes earlier examining his own hand, but other than that, he hadn’t moved.

“Um, isn’t he always like that?” Lara asked quietly.

“What? No. He’s baked out of his mind right now. They fired him a few days ago and our finances are…” Hawke laughed, “Truly atrocious. And with nowhere to go or anything to do... I mean might as well, yeah? Though maybe I should tell him of your bath strategy, now that we aren't all sharing one bathroom.”

Lara lifted her eyes from the floor to peek at Hawke. “Um, are you…?”

“No, I have natural good cheer and a sunny disposition. But I’ll join you, if it would help.”

Lara nodded, and they took their places near Fenris, whose only acknowledgement of them was a slight nod. Hawke ate her chocolate, making sure Lara had hers. The effects were slow, but Lara eventually sank into the sofa, no longer sitting on the edge with her hands tightly clasped in front of her. Hawke ended up draping herself across Fenris, who had nothing to say about the matter. She didn't mind him like this, like a large noodle she could wrap around herself if she wanted, she did prefer it when he was talking and joking and thinking with that sharp brain of his. "Is it really your impression of Fenris that this is what he's like all the time?" she asked Lara. 

Lara's only response was laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus:
> 
> "Solas, I have an idea. We make a second Veil. This one goes around the virus." 
> 
> "Vhenan, no. That's not- No."
> 
> "You're really harshing my vibe." -- Fenris, probably.


	10. Day 10

“Okay, which one of us is braving the streets and getting our groceries?”

They all looked at each other. Varric spoke first. “Solas is the oldest, so he probably shouldn’t go.”

“I am not certain that logic holds,” he protested, though everyone ignored him.

“Hawke is too distractible,” Fenris said, “She’ll start a conversation in the aisles of the store. And she touches her face too much.”

“I do do that,” she agreed, “I have not been able to stop despite copious warnings.”

“So Hawke is out.”

“Bethany is the youngest, but she had that illness years ago…” Hawke chewed her lip. “I know she recovered, but her lungs…”

Varric nodded. “Okay, so not Bethany.”

“Can we all agree that sending Lara is a bad idea?” Fenris chimed in.

Hawke snorted. “I mean, is a panic attack on our shopping list? Because I think it’s the only thing she’d bring back.”

“Hey,” she objected weakly, “I mean, I know it’s true, but you don’t have to say it.”

Varric sighed. “So it’s me or Fenris?”

“I will go,” Solas stated, no room for argument, “There is very little chance this illness will affect me at all. Is there a list?”

Hawke provided it to him, and he shoved it in his pocket. Lara had already risen a level in her anxiety, now entering what Hawke thought of as the “vibration stage.”

“Once you are out there, don’t touch your face,” she lectured Solas, “Don’t touch your phone, don’t touch anything you don’t have to.”

“I know, vhenan.”

“Two meters away from everyone. Or better yet, just cast a barrier. Do barriers work? Has anyone researched that yet? Someone give me my phone back, I need to look up barrier effectiveness for viruses.”

“I will return unharmed.”

“I got this,” Hawke said, hugging Lara from behind and winking at Solas. "We're going to have a really relaxing afternoon." 

“If people crowd you just hit them with a mind blast!" she called after him as he left, "They’ll deserve it!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She chilled out while he was gone, but when he returned she hosed him down in ethanol and made him take a shower.


	11. Day 11

“Darling.” Leliana looked up from her tablet to see her wife standing across from her in their sunroom. Vivienne poured them each a cup of tea and took a deep breath. “As you know, this shelter-in-place order may last quite a long time.”

“Of course,” Leliana said, stirring honey into her tea.

“Our plans to summer in Montsimmard will need to be canceled.”

“It’s already done.”

“The gallery show—we will need to reschedule it.”

“I’m sure everyone will understand.”

“I’ve told Jean-Pierre we won’t be attending his wedding.”

“They’ve moved it to next year.” Leliana put down her tablet and asked, “What is it you really want to tell me, sweetheart?”

Vivienne flicked a bit of non-existent dirt off the table. “The salons are closed. This is, of course, the correct decision for the city, but I am afraid I do not have the tools for proper hair upkeep. Things are about to get… unkempt.” Leliana almost smiled until she saw the expression on her wife’s face. Vivienne tapped her manicured nails against her teacup. “We may be entering a new phase of our marriage, darling.”

“Vivi, there is no haircut that would make me dislike you. There is no haircut where I wouldn’t find you the most elegant and beautiful woman in all of Orlais.”

Vivienne sipped her tea. “We shall see,” she said darkly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiple people have told me they can't see Vivienne and Leliana together. Listen. It works. Two high-powered women with the most incredible social schedule in all of Val Royeaux? It works. I can't believe I'm alone in this. It *works*.
> 
> Also a lot of my friends are coming to realizations about their hair right now. Poor things. 
> 
> And I've had a request for Cullen, maybe a Cassandra. Anyone else?


	12. Day 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Cullen today with a surprise visit from a DAO companion

Cullen felt like an idiot. The hospital was full of activity, doctors, nurses, technicians rushing everywhere, and him, like a sore thumb, waiting to be told what to do. Physical therapy didn’t exactly prepare someone for a pandemic. Other than hand hygiene, which he had down to a science, he wasn’t sure how he could be useful.

“Are you the PT?” someone finally asked him, thank the Maker.

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Fantastic. Get your PPE and head to the gym.” The person, Cullen couldn’t tell if it was a man, woman, human or elf under all the personal protective equipment they were wearing, nodded at the supply. Cullen began to put his on.

“The gym? What am I—”

“We need someone to lead the recovering patients in exercise. It’s mostly older women at this point, so we have them dancing. It keeps their spirits up, and the exercise is good for them. But we also need you to keep an eye on them, in case any of them are struggling. It could be the first sign things are going south, that they need more care, so report to the doctor if you notice anything.”

The moment Cullen was prepped, the person was guiding him with a firm hand on the shoulder. “But I—”

He was thrust through the doors and found two dozen ladies in hospital garb and face masks waiting for him.

“Uh, hello,” he said, rubbing the back of his PPE-covered neck. Maker help him, they giggled. “I’m Cullen. I hear we are exercising today.”

Cullen did not know how to dance. He searched any of his lifetimes of skills, but dancing simply wasn’t among them. He glanced wildly around the room for some sort of music player, but came up empty. Well, this wasn’t the first time he was met with a class expecting him to teach them to move their bodies. He squared up.

“Right," he said with a false confidence, "I am going to teach you some steps today to a dance that I believe is unfamiliar. First we work on posture.”

He ran them through the very basic drills for learning sword-fighting, without actually telling them to pretend to have a sword. Just some footwork, good posture. He was starting to get into the rhythm of it, enjoying having recruits again.

“You there! Keep your arm up! If you don’t follow through with that step, your entire left flank is open!”

“Cullen?” A tall woman who had been excelling at the exercises stepped forward. Although most of her face was obscured by a mask, Cullen felt she looked familiar. “While this is all very interesting and probably very new for most us, I think many of us just wanted to dance.”

“Ah.”

“Not to worry. I’m Wynne, and I’ll just take over for you, if I may, and might I suggest you join in at the back, so you can continue to observe us?”

Cullen nodded, his embarrassment outweighed by his relief. He shuffled to the back of the group, and Wynne turned on the old boombox that had apparently been next to him the entire time. “Ladies, let’s start with the danse en ligne du Jader.”

The women began their synchronized shuffling from side to side, and under Wynne’s withering glare, Cullen did his best to join in. As he grapevined in the wrong direction, he reflected that at least everyone seemed to be breathing well. He could probably chalk this up as a success.

When it was over, Wynne caught his eye and winked. Cullen’s hand found the back of his neck again. Outside the gym he approached a nurse, or a doctor, hard to say, and told them he was done. “Great. We have four more groups who want their turn, and we’ll need you to come back every day this week.”

Cullen supposed that the upside was that by the end of this, he would finally know how to dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Draga for helping me with this chapter <3
> 
> I also want to say thank you to all the comments I've been getting. Honestly, you all are keeping my spirits really high and giving me life.


	13. Day 13

The flat seemed suspiciously quiet. Lara pried herself away from Solas’s sleeping form and wandered into the living room. Only Bethany was there, tapping away at her laptop.

“Morning, professor.”

“You know you don’t have to call me that.” She ran a hand through her unbrushed hair. “I’m not actually a professor. Neither is Solas, for that matter. And you’re living with us for the foreseeable future, so you can just call us by our names.”

Bethany shrugged, and Lara took that as an acceptance.

“Although, I guess I could teach you some physics, if you wanted to. You know, keep up with that whole pre-med thing. Or just for fun.”

Bethany gave her a scathing look, as if to say, “Are you out of your mind?”

“Right.” Lara had never had a younger sister, and Hawke made it look so easy. “That’s a no, then. Where’s Varric?”

Bethany turned back to her laptop. “He went to the bar. Says he thinks better in a place with more clutter.”

“How about your sister?”

“She and Fenris went for a ‘walk.’” Bethany lifted both hands to add the quotation marks around the word.

“What are they actually doing?”

“They went back to their apartment to, you know. It’s just the plumbing that’s broken so, as long as they don’t need to—”

“Got it,” Lara cut in. Creators, living with an undergrad was new levels of awkward. She had been that age, not _that_ long ago, but suddenly she felt entirely ancient. Solas emerged from their room, still in his sleep clothes. He yawned, then stretched, the hem of his old band t-shirt lifting to show his hip bones. _Ancient isn’t so bad_ , she thought. Out loud she asked Bethany, “Any chance _you_ would want to go for a walk?” without taking her eyes off Solas.

The girl huffed. “I’m going to put my headphones on for the next two hours and sit in my room. Is that enough time for you, _professors?_ ”

Lara looked at Solas, who nodded. Then again, this sort of setup wasn’t that different from her undergrad experience at all, she reflected as she pushed Solas back into their room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta be weird living together with your Intro to Physics teacher! Also Bethany is just entirely jealous when she's pining after someone in Ferelden. 
> 
> Sera is up next ^.^


	14. Day 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Sera today!

Sera sat in the window of her tiny apartment and glared at all the people walking by. It was a sunny spring day, and all of Val Royeaux had decided suddenly they liked going for walks. Sera was certain two weeks ago all of them spent their mornings huddled in their pajamas with coffee and pancakes and bananas or whatever.

If she was going to be socially responsible, so help her, so was everyone else.

She searched her place for supplies. _Gotcha,_ she thought, dumping an entire drawer on the floor. Yes, this would do her and every idiot on the street. Half an hour later and with a much wetter apartment, she was ready.

“Six feet apart!” She yelled, hurling the water balloon at an unsuspecting couple. It exploded at their feet, and they both jumped back from each other. Sera grinned wickedly and lobbed another. “Two meters!” she shouted with glee at a group of middle-aged women.

Her plan seemed to be working—people started walking faster, spreading apart. Maybe if she had filled the balloons with ink or something nasty they would all just head home.

“Social responsibility!” she jeered at the next unfortunates to be in range. Today was going to be a good day.


	15. Day 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Dorian and Bull :D

Dorian looked at the faces on his screen. Irving, Roderick, Leliana, and Alexius all lined up at the top, ready to listen and judge. Cassandra and Lara down below, the former looking stern, the latter not looking at him at all.

This was not how he had imagined his PhD defense.

For one thing, he had thought his audience would be wearing trousers. But Bull, his entire live audience of one, was sitting comfortably in nothing but his briefs. It certainly put a spin on the whole “imagine your audience naked” thing. Still, there were worse things to look at then his boyfriend’s powerful legs.

Like Cassandra’s face.

His mic was working, his presentation was viewable. No extraneous tabs were left open, no personal information to betray him. His lighting was good, from the front, soft, enhancing his features, and behind him, the cleanest part of their apartment, complete with a tasteful potted plant. He stopped himself from nervously curling his mustache around his finger—face-touching was a thing of the past and certainly not something to let other people see—and cleared his throat.

Dorian was no stranger to presentations. In truth, he enjoyed the chance to show off his work and his verbal talents. A PhD defense, however, was different. He found himself almost as nervous as he was the first time he was forced to speak in front of an audience. It did not help that he couldn’t make eye contact with friendlies in the seats. Bull nodded along, but only because he’d heard the talk at least twenty times now, not because he understood any of it.

More people joined the virtual meeting as time went by. Stragglers from the department who were clearly still in their pajamas. At least Lara had had the decency to brush her hair, although now she seemed to be having an animated conversation with someone in the room with her. He tried not to let her little square distract him from the talk, but soon more faces were pressed up next to hers. Solas, no surprise, and Hawke, and Varric and… Andraste’s tears, what were they all doing there?

He watched as all their mouths suddenly turned into perfect ‘o’s. Looking at the rest of the meeting, _all_ mouths were perfect ‘o’s. What in the name of…? He turned to Bull, to see if there was some dread mistake, a hair out of place, the plant on fire, perhaps, but Bull had moved from his spot across from him. Dorian turned his head to find him, in nothing but his skivvies, standing behind him, carrying a seltzer water.

“You sounded a little dry,” he whispered, “Want this?”

“They can all see you,” Dorian hissed back at him, hand covering the mic on his headset. Both of them turned back to the meeting, where faces ranged from horror to absolute delight.

“I thought they were looking at your presentation?”

“ _They can see both!”_ Dorian bodily pushed Bull out of frame before dropping his face into his hands. There was no coming back from this. Of all the ways for his defense to have gone—glowing accolades, abject failure, he had never imagined _this._

“I mean, did you want the seltzer, though?” Bull asked, still holding it out to him.

Dorian looked at his beautiful, thoughtful boyfriend and nodded. He did want the seltzer. He sniffed as he took it. If this was how he was to die, being cared for by a beautiful mostly naked man while others watched on in envy, so be it. He took a long, settling drink, sighed, and turned back to the meeting.

“So, where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, he passed.


	16. Day 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hawke and Fenris today

Crouched down and bent over some random patch of sidewalk, Fenris still recognized Hawke easily.

“Where have you been?” he called.

She whipped around, something large hidden behind her back. If Fenris wasn’t mistaken, that something moved.

“I got a text while you were sleeping. From a friend. I needed to help them with something important.”

“What kind of something?” he asked, craning his neck to see around her. Hawke mimicked the movement, trying to block his view, but the bundle she was trying to hide now struggled to free itself of the coat she had thrown over it. Fenris removed the offending item, and a black mabari with a pink nose blinked nervously at him.

“Before you say anything, Thom told me lots of people have been abandoning their animals and the shelter is overrun. And this one, well it’s even worse. You see his nose? Someone burned him. He _needs_ us.”

Fenris couldn’t argue with that. Already the dog cowered behind Hawke like he trusted her and no one else. He held his hand out to him patiently, soliciting a sniff, and after a moment the dog obliged.

“Did you talk to Solas about it?”

“No, but… I mean he must like dogs, right? That whole wolf thing?” Hawke smiled at him, and he shook his head. Meanwhile, the dog was allowing him to touch him. A good start.

“There’s a saying that the Dread Wolf is afraid of mabari,” Fenris responded, gently scratching the dog’s chin. “What’s his name?”

“His previous owners were, to put it mildly, assholes. So I think we can name him whatever we like. I’m thinking Alistair.”

Fenris barked a laugh, which startled the dog away from him. “You may want to rethink that if you want to solicit Bethany’s help in convincing our host not to throw us all out.”

“So you want to keep him?” she asked.

“Was there ever any doubt?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't say this is my best chapter, but shit is hitting me hard today. Hope everyone is doing well.


	17. Day 17

“What are you calling him?” Bethany asked, the dog that was almost the size of her now sitting in her lap. Fenris had talked Hawke out of naming him Alistair, but she’d had another bit of inspiration on the walk home.

“I was thinking Ben’Farel.”

Fenris dragged his hand across his face, and she celebrated internally. “Shouldn’t it be ‘Hen’Farel?’”

"You're right, that's so much better." 

“You can’t call a dog Hen,” Bethany said, “That’s just weird.”

“Call him chicken for short,” Fenris muttered.

“He is a bit of a chicken, isn’t he?” Hawke said, cooing over the dog. “Chicken Hawke. Hen’Farel ‘Chicken’ Hawke.”

Both Fenris and Bethany let out exasperated groans, but Henny, the good boy, wagged his little tail at her. Her Chicken. Her little chickpea.

Footsteps at the door, and there was no hiding their great big chicken of a mabari, even as he preemptively ducked his head at seeing a newcomer. Hawke smiled as bright as she could as Solas looked wearily at the lot of them.

“Hm. Who is this, then?”

“Goose!” Bethany blurted out.

“Goose Hawke,” Hawke affirmed.

“Like from that movie that Varric likes,” Fenris explained.

They all held their breath, but Solas just sighed and held his hand out, waiting. After a moment, the dog gently sniffed it. Satisfied, Solas left, though Fenris heard him mutter something under his breath.

“Did he just say ‘Veil around the virus?’”

“ _Goose_?” Hawke hissed at Bethany.

“Well naming him the other thing was mean! And we don’t want Solas to kick him—or us—out!”

There was no going back now. Goose looked nervously at Hawke and wagged his tail. “Goose Hawke,” she tried again, “Welcome to quarantine.”


	18. Day 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Bull again!

When Dorian had imagined his party after defending his PhD, it hadn’t taken place in Bull’s living room. It had, in fact, included more people. And alcohol. And toasts in his honor. Not that he hadn’t also imagined an intimate affair in which Bull got to fully appreciate the new Dr. Pavus. But when he had begun this journey all those years ago, he was certain he had been promised a party at the end of it.

But this was it, he supposed. Just another night locked down, only this time with a title. He trudged to the restaurant where Bull had ordered them dinner, deciding that he could have a little walk as a treat. Walking had never seemed like a treat before this, maybe Dr. Pavus took evening constitutionals. He could get a cane and thwack people who stood too close to him.

When he returned home, hot food in hand, the entranceway was dark. He would have wondered if Bull left had there been anywhere to go. “Amatus?” he called, wandering toward the kitchen.

“Out here!” came the response in the living room. “I have place settings and everything already.”

Dorian shambled toward his voice, kicking his shoes off in the hall and wondering if trousers were required for dinner or if he should just shuck them off now. Too much effort to disrobe while carrying food, he decided. He announced, “Dinner is served,” but abruptly stopped on the threshold of living room.

The room was lit only by candles and the glow of the television that contained the faces of all his friends. Bull was wearing a _suit_. And a _tie._ “Surprise!” they called a little late, not at all in unison, some with no volume at all as their mics were muted, and yet somehow, to his ear, perfectly. Dorian swallowed, and Bull popped a bottle of sparkling wine.

“Congratulations, Dr. Pavus,” he said, pouring him a glass, “Pass that here.”

Dorian dumbly handed him the bag with their dinner, and Bull began to plate it. He turned to the video screen, finding the camera Bull had set up and waving into it. 

“Doriannnn,” Hawke slurred, lifting a glass to her camera, “We have been celebrating you all evening.”

Her mic was quickly muted, though her mouth continued to move. “Dr. Pavus.” Maevaris’s face now took up most of the screen. “I am so proud of you. When this is all over, you’ll have to come home so I can take you shopping for appropriate professorial clothing. Elbow pads, tweed, the entire look.”

“If professors and clothing stores and Tevinter all still exist at the end of this, I will take you up on that offer.” He lifted his glass of bubbly to her, to them all, and he could see, if not hear, another cheer going round. Bull put his arm around him and kissed the top of his head.

“Alright, should I kill the feed so we can have our evening together?”

Dorian sniffed, quickly wiping his eyes. “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian-- thank you all for inconveniencing yourselves to celebrate me. Now goodbye.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merill meets Loghain

“So I’m fired?” Merrill asked.

“Not fired, furloughed.”

“But what does that mean?”

“It means you aren’t working, and we aren’t paying you, but when this is over you will start working again.”

“And that’s different from being fired, is it?”

That conversation had happened over a month ago. Merrill was starting to worry. It had taken all of Hawke’s connections and charms to get her the library job in the first place. But all the libraries were closed.

The only jobs available seemed to be at the grocery store. Merrill had never been a checkout clerk, but when she called, they told her she could start right away.

“The marks on the floor are to help with distancing,” she reminded the man jumping the line to put his items on the belt.

“I choose the distance I want to be at, girl,” he sneered. He was tall, dark hair, deeply Fereldan by the sound of it.

“I think you’ll find as long as you are in our store, you need to abide by our rules.”

He scoffed. “Everyone knows this so-called pandemic is just an Orlesian plot to weaken the Fereldan economy. It’s not even a _real_ pandemic. You’ll see. These precautions are ridiculous.”

Merrill was unmoved. Humans generally had all sorts of ridiculous beliefs. She was used to working around them. “Um, that’s fine, I guess, but you’ll still need to wear a mask.”

“Me?” He held a hand to his chest. “Wear a _mask?_ Like some poncy Orlesian noble?”

“Or like a rule-abiding customer? Of our store? Oh well, you’re welcome to leave. Here’s security.”

“I will leave,” he growled, stepping away from their Qunari bouncer, “I’ll take my custom elsewhere. And I recommend everyone else join me!”

Nobody followed him out of the store.

“What an absolute prick,” Merrill said to the next customer. Masked faces all around her nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Loghain in VR? Idk.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Fibrochemist for sending me the inspiration for this =D

Lara stood in the doorway, preventing Solas from leaving the flat. He’d been planning on getting groceries and enjoying fresh air and the relative silence that came from being far away from Hawke.

Lara was now presenting as a barrier to that plan, with a fierce look on her face. “There’s an article out saying bald men are at higher risk of serious symptoms. Just saw it this morning.”

Solas blinked at her, bunching his reusable shopping bags in his hand. “Is there really?” Hawke called from across the flat, before he could muster a response to that, “Baldness? Can I see?”

“Vhenan—”

“You are the oldest one here,” she started again, and Solas had to admit he was tired of this argument. The idea that the _age_ of an immortal being could possibly affect the virulence of a pandemic— “And you are _bald_. That’s two strikes. Someone else will have to do the shopping.”

She took the shopping bags from his yielding hands. “My heart, I do not think that _hair_ protects from viruses.”

“It’s male pattern balding,” Fenris called, glaring at Hawke’s phone, “It has to do with hormones.”

“And?” Lara challenged.

“And I am bald by choice, vhenan.”

She turned back to face him. “Bullshit.”

He couldn’t help himself; he laughed. “Pardon?”

“Bullshit! I’ll believe you are bald by choice when you grow hair.”

“Are you going to keep me locked inside until my hair grows?” He took a step closer to her, placing a hand on her waist and lowering his voice, “I thought you liked my bald head.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I liked it before it was a liability.”

Solas sighed. He hadn’t done this particular spell in a long time, and the feeling wasn’t exactly pleasant. And though there was nothing wrong with balding naturally, he found himself irritated by her assertion. He could hardly let such an incorrect assumption stand. He held his hands up around his head, closed his eyes, and let the magic flow.

When he opened his eyes moments later, every member of his household was staring at him slack-jawed, including the mabari. Even Bethany had poked her head out of her room to gape.

Solas ran his hand through hair that had settled down to his shoulders. Twisting a lock in his fingers, he idly searched for gray hairs while the others continued to gawp at him. He hadn’t seen it in thousands of years, but it was still a sort of reddish-brown color. He tossed the hair over his shoulder. His scalp would be too sore for hours for him to tie it back. He didn’t even own a brush.

“Satisfied?” he asked Lara.

She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, reached out to touch his hair, then pulled back. “I have a lot of questions,” she finally said.

“And I suppose these questions will prevent me from doing the shopping?”

“How do I know that’s not just… Fade-hair?” she demanded.

He leaned closer to her. “Would you like to touch it?”

“No,” she said in a tone that clearly conveyed she would very much like to touch it. Solas took the grocery bags from her and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“I expect to be occupied for the next few hours by a thorough interrogation,” he said to Hawke and Fenris, taking Lara’s hand and leading her away from the door, “someone else will have to do the shopping.”

From behind him he heard Hawke ask quietly, “Do you suppose we should add conditioner to the shopping list?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a serious note, I live in the US. In addition to covid and lockdown and everything else, we've been dealing with a lot of police violence here. The city where I live has been under curfew, public transit was shut off, the national guard has been brought in, there are checkpoints... Writing this fic has been a way to make light of a serious situation as a form of stress relief. I don't feel like that's an appropriate approach for the ongoing protests, so I won't be writing that aspect of the current situation here into this story. I am not ignoring it, but it's a dimension of reality I will not be bringing to Thedas. 
> 
> Obviously you are welcome to reach out to me and talk to me about these things. I just don't want to diminish the importance of the movement. This fic is meant to be light-hearted shenanigans in the face of a global pandemic. There are no punchlines when it comes to police violence and the ongoing murders of black people. 
> 
> Stay safe, everyone.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vivienne and Leliana today.

With their social calendar summarily canceled, Leliana had a lot of spare time on their hands. She’d baked bread, as everyone had. She spent hours looking at videos of nugs. She picked up her old guitar and learned some new songs. She watched a documentary with Vivi about wyvern breeders that upset her greatly. And when they finished that, she began in on their closet.

It was a monstrous thing. Both of them were organized, of course, but both of them also had their vices. For Leliana, it was shoes. And her love of shoes meant that not only was her side of the closet spilling over with them, but so was Vivi’s, because she had the most elegant feet and Leliana would see them decorated appropriately.

Vivienne, on the other hand, never discarded an outfit. She explained patiently that all styles came in again, but Leliana wondered if all styles had to live _here_ , in their shared closet. So she was going through it, deciding what could be put in storage, or at least moved to their spare closet, or what Vivi referred to as the guest room.

That is how she came across the sweater.

She knew her wife’s tastes. Vivienne preferred to dress in black and white, but when she chose color, it was dramatic, bright, eye-catching. This glum little olive-green fluffy monstrosity—obviously someone’s home knitting— did not belong to Vivienne.

It did not belong to Leliana, either.

Her cleaning became a lot more _energetic_ after that. After fifteen minutes of thumping as shoes were thrown into their places, Vivienne walked in to examine her process.

“My dear, if organizing the closet is distressing you, there’s no reason to continue.”

“Why should I be distressed?” Leliana spat, “I just wasn’t sure where you would want this.”

She placed the offending sweater on their bed and waited. Vivienne frowned, just slightly, and Leliana’s stomach sank. So she had been right.

“I hoped you would never see this,” she said, jaw tight. Leliana ran through the women she knew from Vivienne’s past. It was clearly made by an artist, but one focused more on comfort than actual style. Maker’s breath, she could imagine _Solas_ in something like this. Is that what Vivienne liked? Was she cheating on her with some ugly-sweater-making artist? Someone at the university? “Artists go through many phases,” Vivienne said, as if that was an explanation.

“Who is she?” Leliana demanded.

“She?” Vivi lifted her eyes then, her face in perfect confusion. Slowly understanding dawned on her. “Darling, _I_ made this sweater. Back in my student days. We all experiment with who we want to be, and for the month it took me to make this hideous thing, I thought one day I’d be the type of woman who paints barefoot and keeps bees.” Leliana swallowed. “I kept it out of sentimentality. And because who knows? Maybe someday I will want to keep bees and look the part.” Leliana swallowed again, her hands twisting in her lap, now feeling very foolish. “And rest assured, my dearest, if I ever do decide to wear drab colors and sell honey by the side of the road, you are the only one I would want to do it with me.”

Vivienne plucked Leliana’s hand from her lap, gently planting a kiss on her knuckles, and finally her anxiety broke inside of her. “I’m such an idiot, Vivi.”

Vivienne smiled. “Just as long as you are _my_ idiot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zero shade to bee keepers and home made sweaters. I have the utmost respect for both of these things XD


	22. Day ?

Lara couldn’t get herself to go into the store. She had money in her pockets, and items that she needed that existed in the store whose door stood open in front of her, items that were ready to be exchanged for said money in her pockets, and she could not do it. It wasn’t the first time she found herself outside on a beautiful day, completely collapsing internally. She just wished Solas wasn’t there to witness it this time.

“Let’s sit,” he said, gesturing at an empty bench.

And though a public bench was probably covered in unknown and possibly deadly germs, Lara allowed him to lead her to it. She wanted to drop her head into her hands, but she wasn’t allowed to touch her face. She wanted to take her mask off to gulp down air, but that would be irresponsible. She mostly wanted to be teleported back home, where her anxiety was tightly contained and managed, and not out here, where it seemed to have grown more powerful in her absence.

“I think I’ve stayed inside too long,” she muttered, “Being outside is… awful.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Lara liked the sun and plants and the sound of the wind through the trees. She liked going on walks, but she could no longer abide _destinations_. Wandering was fine. Arriving places was awful.

“It’s never going back to the way it was, is it?” she asked, though it didn’t sound much like a question. The future was always an interesting problem to Lara, because in very real terms, it did not exist. It would exist, eventually, but currently, it did not, and was therefore irrelevant. She lived now, in this time and space, and she tried to let limit herself to perceptions only of now and forget that a future may or may not occur.

Mindfulness, Ella called it.

But the past existed quite definitely and immovably, and Lara could not help but remember that eight months ago, she did not panic every time she walked down a busy street. She did not think about germs or surfaces or holding her breath when she walked past strangers or have nightmares about being in public spaces without a mask on.

“Things will change again,” Solas replied.

“In your lifetime or mine?”

He did not answer. Probably because he knew she was being stupid. Lara had read about the course of pandemics and viruses. Vaccines could take years, but generally didn’t take decades. Assuming she didn’t succumb to it—and since she almost never went outside, it was doubtful she would—she would live to a time where the pandemic years were a memory.

But the future just wasn’t real.

“I know you were asleep for it,” she said, “but I suppose the Veil was like this at the start.”

“In what way?”

“For the average person, one day, everyone woke up and the world had changed. They didn’t know how yet, or why, or if it would stay that way. It simply was. The world had new limits, and they had to adapt to them.” _And then people started dying,_ she didn’t say.

“The pandemic will be over in a year or two,” he said.

“But the world will still be different after.”

“Yes.”

“I will still be different after.”

“Maybe.”

They sat a bit longer, Lara wondering if Solas was offended by her comparison. “I suppose mages are a bit like anti-maskers,” she mused, “Magic was sealed off, but they chose to ignore that.”

Solas dropped his head into his hands, his shoulders shaking. It took her a minute to realize he was laughing. “You truly have a unique mind. Sit. I’ll go buy what we need, and you can try again next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know about all of you, but I'm finding these times stressful. Let me know if you want to chat, or really anything at all to help take our minds off things. Hugs, love, and stay home and stay safe.


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